Effigy
by Fierceawakening
Summary: Kinkmeme fill. Starscream has a secret crush on Megatron. Fearing his Leader will never return it, he steals pieces of Megatron's plating after their endless fights and constructs a small figurine of Megatron for inspiration during his... alone time. M for sticky, D/s, and creatively messy uses of dolls.
1. Chapter 1

Starscream twitched a dented wing. It ached, but the movement sent a bright jolt of sensation zipping through the sensors there that soon faded to a warm, electrical glow.

He cursed, muttering to himself. It felt almost good now, but it certainly hadn't when Megatron was beating him. Primus knew he didn't mind pain, but his Leader's punishments were rapidly becoming ridiculous.

He'd felt sure, long vorns ago when all this had started, that Megatron had understood. Had known what his provocations meant.

Oh, he meant every word of his criticisms. Megatron could be spectacularly stupid at times, and someone had to remind the old fool of his failures. Since Starscream was apparently the only Decepticon intelligent or brave enough to do so, the job fell to him.

But he'd known very well that Megatron would punish him, and guessed well enough how a former gladiator from the death pits might go about it. And Megatron was nothing if not cruel. More than once, he'd heard the unmistakable sound of the big mech's cooling fans roaring to life as his fists crashed into the thin metal of Starscream's wings or his hands tightened over Starscream's shoulder vents.

It was a bit more than even Starscream could enjoy, but that hadn't bothered him. Not at first. He'd known very well how attractive he could be. And although Megatron would never admit it, Starscream had noticed Megatron revise his plans more than once, altering this or that detail based on his second's suggestions.

Although Starscream had begged and pleaded and groveled - and, yes, been annoyed, because damn it all, that hurt! - he'd secretly exulted in it. His spark had wheeled in triumph and his turbines had spun in eager expectation. He'd felt certain that someday, once Megatron had finished venting that cruelty on him, he would -

He clicked his wings angrily, glad for the burn it elicited. It matched his sour mood. There was no use in thinking about that now. If Megatron hadn't noticed in hectovorns, well, the oblivious idiot wasn't going to suddenly start now.

Fuming, he crossed his room in a few long strides and threw open a storage closet, rummaging around until his hand closed over the object he sought.

It was crudely made, welded awkwardly together from pieces of plating Starscream had managed to tear off of Megatron during their endless, violent arguments. Although his scientific training had made him precise, and his careful study of every micron of Megatron's frame had given him a near-perfect blueprint for the miniature, he'd had little patience for careful work. It didn't matter, really, what the figurine looked like.

Only what it represented.

His hand moved with practiced ease to a small panel on the back of the figure. As delicately as he could, he flipped one of the switches there, murmuring in anticipation.

The figurine's optics flickered and then flared to life, glowing reddish-orange.

Starscream shuddered at the brightness, imagining that the piercing glow was his lord's gaze, staring as greedily at its handiwork as Starscream had always hoped he would.

Starscream hadn't been able to find any lights in exactly the proper shade; the red of his lord's optics was as unique as their bearer. But this was good enough.

Oblivious fool Megatron might have been, but at least his little toy knew it should adore him.

Twitching his wings again and shuddering at the sting, he carried the figurine to the edge of his berth and laid it there with an almost reverent gentleness. He slid a hand over it once, savoring the pits and dents in the metal because they were real, because they were scars, because they were his.

Then he stepped back, striking a salacious pose. He ran his hands lightly down his sides, spinning his turbines and licking his lips as he tilted his hips toward the small, silent figurine he imagined was watching him.

"Do you like this, Mighty Megatron?" he crooned, his turbines whirling loudly as his fingers moved on his own plating, lingering over the dents that Megatron had left there earlier. "Do you like seeing me on display for you?"

He slid his hands lower, canting his hips toward the figurine and tracing the circle of his spike cover, savoring the heat there. He stepped closer, licking his lips.

He hesitated as long as he could stand and then reached out again, his finger twitching as it found the proper switch.

The figurine's interface panel slid open obediently, a miniature spike springing free from it.

"Oh," Starscream whispered, "you do like that, don't you?"

Constructing the figurine's spike had unfortunately been a matter of guesswork. Starscream had never seen the thing. But if the rest of Megatron's frame was any indication, it would be large like the rest of him, and thick enough to stretch deliciously going in.

Starscream had proportioned his figurine ridiculously. Because it wasn't fair that he hadn't seen it, and the thought excited him.

And for one other reason, of course, though he hadn't reached that part of the ritual yet.

He set it back down gently, admiring the enormous silver phallus before sliding aside his own spike cover and taking himself in hand.

He moved slowly at first, wanting to give his obligingly captive audience a good show. His spike was long and curved gracefully upward, bands of red and white metal alternating along its surface. He knew that the few mechs he'd granted the privilege of seeing it had found it as pretty as the rest of him, and he wanted to make the most of it.

But as his gaze shifted to meet the frozen stare of his toy, he couldn't help but pump himself faster. The makeshift optics, never leaving him, burned bright, and as he pumped himself harder he could almost imagine his figurine's faceplates moving, shifting into a greedy, mocking smirk.

"For you," he panted, narrowing his optics into slits to better lose himself in the illusion. The orange lights were pinpricks of flame and suddenly he knew nothing but heat and light and the dream of his lord watching him. A long shudder wracked his frame and he shrieked as his transfluid burst free, covering the small effigy of Megatron in silver, sticky ropes of it.

###

He floated for long moments in a sated, sleepy haze, little electrical pulses crackling through his interface equipment. His valve cover slid aside and he traced it with one finger, murmuring with pleasure.

"You never disappoint me," he whispered, smirking at the figurine bedecked with his emission.

Cycling a sigh of satiation, he leaned over and lifted his prize in one hand. His own optics shone now, gleaming with hunger, as he wrapped a hand around the figurine and brought it to his lips.

He pressed his lip plates to it and opened his mouth to lick at the stain he'd left, shuddering at the taste of his own fluids against the metal. It had come, after all, from Megatron's real frame, wrenched from his lord's body during their little power struggles. Starscream nuzzled it with his lips and tongue, reveling in the roughness of thousands of tiny dents and scars.

His glossa danced over its helmet, curling over the symbol of Megatron's authority, worn like any vulgar mech might wear a crown. His free hand moved against the rim of his valve again, feeling the lubricant pooling there as his glossa slid over its cheeks and chin and carefully, carefully cleaned its makeshift optics. They felt hot under his mouth, burning as they gave off light, and he slid his finger just barely in his valve and held it there.

That was maddening, but Starscream wasn't doing this just to make himself overload again. With a whimper, he slid his finger out again. He'd save that for Megatron, if he could stand to do it. And if the thick-bolted fool would ever learn to take a slagging hint.

He kissed his toy, tracing a path to the Decepticon insignia he'd branded into it. It was crude, crude and uneven, because he couldn't find a branding iron small enough. His tanks roiled in distaste at the thought of the imperfections. But it was worth it to sear the symbol into his toy, just as it had been seared onto Megatron's own chest, so many hundreds of vorns ago.

And into his own wings. He arched his back and flared them out, feeling a sharp spike of pain through the sensors there. But now, after his overload, with his effigy of Megatron at his lips, he felt nothing but elation. His valve spasmed and he gasped, his glossa slipping down to one of his figure's arms.

Sadly, he'd found no light source adequate to representing the lavender energy that roiled through his Leader's weapon as it charged. Unlike the figurine's optics, its cannon didn't glow with light or hum with heat. Still, Starscream sighed as his glossa curled around it, dipping into the makeshift barrel.

_Wouldn't this feel good, Mighty Megatron, _he thought with another shudder, _if I were doing it for real?_

He licked his way down the figure's abdomen, his turbines whirling at his own taste, but he left the prodigious spike alone for the moment.

That was for last.

His mouth slid over the broad legs, one and then the other. He sucked at the figurine's feet, taking them all the way into his mouth, imagining planting kisses on a much larger set of feet. Perhaps he would do it in a rare show of loyalty, finally confessing after so long what he'd really meant by all the needling. Or perhaps Megatron would shove him down, snarling, fed up with the endless provocations, and order him to lick -

Cycling a heavy sigh, he slid his way back up to the one place he'd left alone.

"Is this what you want, Leader?" he purred, sliding his glossa over the figurine's spike.

It was too small to properly take in his mouth, even with its exaggerated proportions. But somehow Starscream preferred it like this, his glossa twining around it as he savored his own taste on Megatron's metal.

He shuttered his optics, his processor spinning with fantasies. He imagined the fluid as Megatron's own, spattered there after his Leader had brought himself to overload, staring at the provocative display he'd given earlier, helpless to resist his second's charms.

Then his fantasy shifted. He imagined the fluid as a mix of Megatron's emissions and lubricant from his own valve, glistening against Megatron's spike after the Decepticon leader had finished using him. He shuddered, imagining Megatron's rasping voice hitching as it ordered him to clean his spike with his glossa.

And then there was Starscream's favorite fantasy of all, the simplest and the best: Megatron's thick, hard spike driving into his mouth, over and over.

Perhaps Megatron would be flattered, knowing what Starscream had wanted for so long. Perhaps he would be gentle - as gentle as one could expect from him, anyway. Finally knowing Starscream's secret, he would be flattered into forbearance, petting and caressing the wings he'd so carelessly abused.

Or perhaps he'd be as cruel as he always was, grabbing the back of Starscream's helm and shoving his head down, denting the metal of his mouth, stretching it wide with his no doubt impossible size, as his other hand twisted at wingtips and ailerons and anything it could reach.

Starscream's hips tilted, pressing the rim of his valve hard into his free hand. He wouldn't penetrate himself again - not now, not when he could so easily lose himself in the fantasy that someday he might really have a chance with Megatron - but the feel of Megatron's plating against his mouth and the thought of Megatron inside him was too much, entirely too much, and he needed another overload and damn the consequences.

_Consequences..._ There would, of course, be none. _But you don't need to think of that, do you? _he reminded himself.

Grinning with a fierce, impish delight, he rubbed hard at an external sensor node, imagining Megatron bursting in on him. Right now, just like this, with his hand at his valve and his cobbled-together effigy pressed to his lips.

His valve pulsed hard and he shuddered as the overload hit, his cry of ecstasy muffled by the metal.


	2. Chapter 2

"Starscream," Megatron growled, slamming a dark hand against the console, "you imbecile!"

Megatron stared, optics wide, at the scene playing out on the security monitor in front of him. When Soundwave had informed him that Starscream was up to something, he'd expected to discover the Seeker scheming in the secrecy of his quarters, plotting his latest ridiculous takeover attempt.

Soundwave had been evasive about exactly what he'd caught Starscream doing. Megatron had pressed him, to no avail. That had irritated him, of course, but it hadn't worried him much. He was an old mech, leader of his faction for hundreds of vorns. Very little surprised him any more, especially not from Starscream. He'd dealt with the volatile Seeker's schemes for almost as long as he'd led the Decepticons. Whatever it was Soundwave felt so oddly shy about, Megatron had been sure he could handle.

And yet nothing could possibly have prepared him for what he'd discovered Starscream doing.

His glitched little fool of a second had been prancing in front of a mere toy, crooning to it like a shameless pleasure drone, saying things he'd never once thought to say to the very mech that cobbled-together idol represented - !

Megatron's frame rumbled, every part of his chassis vibrating with indignation. Starscream's fingertips had lingered over the dents Megatron's beating had left as if he _enjoyed _them. As if the only thing the hotheaded little fool had felt in response to Megatron's discipline was pleasure, not shame and contrition. As if Megatron had somehow done it all for him!

It was unthinkable.

And if all that weren't demeaning enough, Starscream had followed up his ridiculous vamping by taking himself in hand and overloading all over the disgusting little figurine.

Which Starscream had, if Megatron didn't miss his guess, cobbled together with spare bits of Megatron's own armor!

_And yet_, Megatron thought, thinking of Starscream's bright blue hands wrapped around his spike, his turbines whirling as he moved, his crimson gaze fixed on the toy he'd made as a stand-in for Megatron himself.

Megatron's own spike, pressurizing rapidly, thudded against its housing. Starscream had whispered something, the moment before his fluid burst free.

Something that sounded almost... reverent.

And then there was his glossa, wrapping itself around the metal of the figurine - Megatron's own metal, if he was right about where Starscream had gotten those bits of armor plating - sliding over every groove and scratch and dent. Moving with the kind of thorough devotion he would have expected from Shockwave or Soundwave, not his endlessly rebellious second in command.

His spike cover slid open all at once and he looked down at his rebellious equipment, glaring. Pleasant as it was to think of Starscream willingly submitting, he'd known the mech for hectovorns. If Starscream had ever intended to offer himself to his Leader, surely he would have done it by now.

And Megatron had certainly waited for it, staring hungrily at Starscream's twisted form after laying him low, waiting for oaths of fealty, prostrations, shy kisses proving the younger mech's devotion -

_There is no point in such idle fancy, _Megatron chided himself sternly, wrenching his optics away from the monitor.

_Still_, a part of his processor whispered, _that is a far better use for Starscream's glossa than his usual litanies of sarcasm and insults._

Megatron's optics widened at the thought. If Starscream did mean it -

Grinning, he tapped a button on the console. Once the monitor went black, he pressed a finger to another button, this one on his own chest. "Megatron to Starscream."

"What is it now, Leader?" a familiar voice screeched back, all signs of relaxation gone from it.

"I require your presence immediately. We have matters to discuss."

"Matters to - what - I was just _there _a cycle and a half ago! Surely I couldn't possibly have done anything between then and - " Starscream's vocalizer sputtered, and his voice faded out in a fuzz of static.

"Starscream," Megatron answered, his voice a gravelly purr. "I know exactly what you've been doing."

A shriek answered him, its high pitch stinging his audios. "Then you - you've been _spying _on me! Violating my privacy!" Megatron heard the rapid clicking of Starscream's wings, a sure sign of agitation and distress.

How would moving his wings feel, post-overload and sore from the dents Megatron's rough treatment had left there? Megatron cycled a heavy pant, not caring whether or not the Seeker heard it.

"And would I have needed to spy on you if you'd bothered, once in millions of this planet's years, to inform me of your feelings instead of shrieking pointless complaints at every turn?"

"I - I - how _dare_ you -!"

"Instead, you waste your time pestering me and resort to some pathetic little toy you cobbled together out of whatever you could find!"

"Take," Starscream murmured, his rasping voice barely audible.

"What are you going on about? I can hardly hear you."

"It's yours, all right?" Starscream hissed. "Every plate of it. Torn off you when you've repaid my _constructive suggestions_ with violence and attacked me! Because of course you're too slagging _dense_ to see what's right in front of you, you thick-bolted, rust-eaten, obsolete excuse for a -"

Megatron chuckled, sparing another glance for his spike. It stood fully erect now, fluid glistening at its tip. "You're on your way right now."

The only response was another screeching howl, followed by a burst of static and a loud click as the comm link died.


	3. Chapter 3

The door slid open with a shriek of protest almost as grating as Starscream's voice. Megatron chuckled as the Seeker stormed in, his optics bright accusing red. He leaned back in his chair, the picture of relaxation.

"How dare you eavesdrop on me like that!" Starscream cried, his wings flicking frantically. "During my private time alone! Which I wouldn't have needed in the first place if _someone_ hadn't decided to 'discipline' me for a few simple suggestions -"

He stopped, catching sight of Megatron's spike. It stood almost as tall as Starscream's own but was far thicker, glistening the same silver as most of the rest of Megatron's frame.

Optics widening at the sight of it, Starscream squirmed. Lubricant oozed out from under his valve cover and he felt his own spike thud against its casing, pressurized anew by the sight. He licked his lips and stepped closer.

"Hello, Starscream," Megatron said, fighting to keep his voice calm.

Starscream's optics irised open suddenly. "And you call _me_ brazen. Waving that thing at me like you expect something from me, after beating me half to scrap -"

"Starscream," Megatron said again, rising to his feet and stepping toward the fuming Seeker, "shut up."

Starscream whirled on Megatron, his mouth already opening to form a new retort, when he felt Megatron's hand wrap around the tip of a wing. His screech of indignation died as he pressed his wing into Megatron's hand.

"You've been waiting a long time for this, haven't you?" Megatron murmured, sliding his fingers slowly down the surface of the damaged wing.

"Well, of course I - hav - v -" Starscream's voice faded out in a burst of static as Megatron's fingertips pressed against a jagged dent his fists had left in the Seeker's wing. Seeing Starscream's reaction, Megatron curled his fingers, digging into the damaged plating.

Starscream's turbines whirled and his optics flickered. His vocalizer emitted a thin, high whine as he attempted to collect himself. "I - wouldn't have had to wait if you'd ever bothered to pay attention to - the obvi -"

Leaning in, Megatron silenced him with a forceful kiss.

Starscream shivered, moaning into Megatron's mouth, his frame trembling. He wrapped a long-fingered hand around Megatron's back and ran his own hands over the scratched plating, just as he had over the scraps of metal he'd used to make his figurine. Megatron's cooling fans roared.

"Now," Megatron rasped, wrenching his mouth free of the other's, "let's see what you really have for me."

Starscream squealed, furious at Megatron for pulling away. Megatron ignored him, pointing a dark hand at the floor. "Down."

Megatron expected another spate of insults. What he got, instead, was Starscream falling to his knees in one smooth, graceful motion. The Seeker pressed a surprisingly delicate kiss to the plating of one of Megatron's thighs, nuzzling the metal with his cheek and lip plates.

Once again, Megatron marveled at the attention, the same careful precision that Starscream had shown to his little toy.

"This is me," Megatron rasped, smirking. "The real me. Your _leader_."

Starscream's optics flared once as he tilted his head to look up at Megatron. Then he cycled a long sigh, his dark faceplates smoothing themselves into calmness again.

"Yes," he whispered, leaning against Megatron's thigh, his voice barely audible. "Let me -"

"No. I want to see you first. Open."

Starscream's spike cover slid aside, and Megatron caught his first glimpse of the prize that had so long lay hidden behind it. Thin and sleek like the rest of Starscream's frame, it rose proudly as it sprung free. Rings of color circled its length. Garish as they looked, Megatron found himself inclined to forgive their ridiculousness for the moment.

"Is that all?" Megatron teased, feeling his core temperature rise as he stared at the obvious evidence of Starscream's desire for him. How long had he waited for some hint of it, somewhere hidden under all the arguments and senseless provocations?

"Well," Starscream shot back over the noise of his turbines and two sets of cooling fans, "if you're so unimpressed, maybe I should just -"

"I'm unimpressed with your reticence, Starscream. You've never been shy before."

"Shy? Are you overheating? Because you really must be malfunctioning if you think I'm being -"

"I said open. I meant both. Now."

Starscream's valve cover slid aside, its owner hissing curses. Lubricant gleamed around it, oozing from the opening, glowing bright and brazen. Feeling the air against his open valve, Starscream canted his hips, shuttering his optics.

"Much better," Megatron rasped, leaning down to circle the rim of Starscream's valve with one dark finger. Starscream shuddered again, leaning into his touch. He drew his hand away slowly, holding it up, admiring the lubricant smeared on his fingers.

"So now you're just going to stare at it, instead of -"

Megatron snickered. Even here, doing something Megatron had never dared to expect, Starscream just had to be predictable.

"Starscream."

"Hm?"

"I saw what you did to that little toy of yours. Stop running your vocalizer and do the same, and I might even reward you by using your valve. If you impress me enough."

Heated air gusted from Starscream's shoulder vents. He licked his lips, staring at Megatron's spike, clearly mesmerized.

His faceplates curled into a smirk. "Or?"

Megatron's hand twitched. Through sheer force of will, he held it at his side. "Or I can beat you into silence. As usual." He scowled. "Which satisfies neither of us."

"Fine." Starscream chuckled. "Just making sure of my - options."

"Only you would see that as an option," Megatron muttered, his tone dark.

But Starscream had already leaned in, rubbing his cheek plates lightly against Megatron's thighs and the base of his spike. His lip plates, still closed, ghosted along its length. Megatron shuddered at the teasing. His frame rumbled, half in pleasure and half in warning. Starscream chuckled against his spike, a pleasant, vibrating hum, and extended his glossa, touching it to the metal.

With slow care, Starscream began to move. Megatron's ventilation hitched, his cooling fans roaring. Once again, Starscream's deliberate movements surprised him. He'd never expected such patience from his impetuous Second.

But hadn't he seen it himself, just moments ago? Starscream had done the same to his toy, scrupulously cleaning every part of it.

But the toy, lifeless and nonsentient, didn't get the pleasure of seeing Starscream on his knees, invested fully in his task, pausing briefly to tilt his head and smirk up at Megatron with optics glowing bright, excited crimson.

And his little trinket didn't get to feel this, either.

Megatron reached out his hands, wrapping one around the back of Starscream's helm and the other around the edge of a wing. He curled his fingertips over both, and it was Starscream's turn to shiver.

Cycling a sigh, he traced his way to the head of Megatron's spike, licking at the fluid already leaking from it. He twirled his glossa around it one last time and opened his mouth wide.

Megatron's spike was thick - too thick for Starscream to take in one smooth motion. But he tried anyway, the gears of his jaw clicking as it stretched open.

Megatron's hips moved as he sank into the warm heat of Starscream's mouth. For so long, he had imagined he'd have to do this by force, if he did it at all. And as entertaining as that sometimes seemed when he'd had entirely enough of Starscream's games, taking Starscream by force would sever whatever tenuous respect the Seeker had for him.

And now it seemed that respect meant far more than he'd ever imagined. Slowly, not daring to break the fragile spell their bizarre little meeting had woven, Megatron began to move.

Starscream moaned around him, a plaintive little sound, and the vibration surged through him, flaring through his circuitry. His hands tightened reflexively, one grabbing possessively at Starscream's helm, the other curling hard around his wing. Starscream's turbines roared and his mouth opened wider.

"Well," Megatron rasped, his voice laced with static, "if _that's_ what you want -"

He drew back just enough to make Starscream whimper and then slammed into him hard, feeling his spike scrape against the thin plating at the roof of Starscream's mouth.

He growled, feeling the constriction, knowing that this must burn. Driving into Starscream's mouth again and again, he tightened his grip of the Seeker's helm, pressing him down, forcing him to take his spike deeper, pressing into his open throat.

Starscream keened, his vocalizer emitting a harsh whine, but Megatron was beyond caring now, with Starscream's mouth wrapped tight around him and his spike aflame with unbearable heat.

Then he felt a wing flutter against his hand, pressing itself into his grip, and he understood.

He allowed himself only one more thrust, drawing back and pushing in deep, every sensor in his spike alighting, the stimulation awakening nodes he hadn't known existed -

With a roar, he tore himself free.

For a moment, the only sound Starscream could produce was a yowl of rage and frustration. As Starscream's vocalizer reset, it gradually resolved into a litany of insults, screeched at so high a pitch Megatron could only decipher snatches of it.

"- you insane, rusting, obsolete glitch - in the Pit do you think you're d - toying with me all this time - finally deign to do something for you - more than you ever deserve anyway - should have known - kill you where you stand - take everything, do you hear me? - stupid, pathetic, worthless fool -"

"Starscream," Megatron said, fighting to keep his voice even, "shut up."

To Megatron's amazement, the Seeker's mouth snapped shut. He glowered first at Megatron's still-pressurized spike and then at his leader's face, his optics twin maelstroms of flame.

"What did I tell you before we began?"

"How in the Pit should I know what you were saying before, considering that you never say anything worth listening to anyway? I had a mouthful of your spike! Surely that's more important than whatever you're going on about - _aiiihhh_!"

Starscream's tirade ended in a shriek as Megatron twisted hard at an aileron of the wing he still held.

"I said," Megatron responded, wrapping his hands around Starscream's slender frame and lifting him up, "that if you pleased me well enough -"

He lowered the Seeker onto the console, none too gently "- I would reward you. By using your valve."

Starscream had only the barest moment to snicker as Megatron's hands shoved his legs apart.

Then Megatron pressed his spike against Starscream's valve, the Seeker's lubricant smearing it as it hesitated there.

In one thunderous motion, Megatron rammed his spike in, the rim of Starscream's valve denting as Megatron forced his way inside, heedless of anything but his own desire. Once more he felt himself swallowed up by eager heat, the sting of his entry only feeding the need for him he found there.

He felt Starscream's legs wrap around him, locking hard against the plating of his abdomen, digging in deep enough to hurt. He welcomed the pain of it just as Starscream welcomed him, slamming into Starscream harder and growling.

"Mine -" he rumbled, the heat nearly too much to bear.

But he had promised Starscream a reward, and this wouldn't be one if he overloaded the moment he felt Starscream's valve around him.

"More -" Starscream panted, his voice a staticky buzz, the word a plea and a challenge all at once.

Megatron answered it, drawing himself nearly free of Starscream's valve entirely and thrusting in again, as deep as he could, determined to awaken every sensor in the plating wrapped tight around him.

"Yours - always - what do you think I've been - trying to tell you -?"

Starscream reached out a sleek blue hand, wrapping it around his own spike and moving over himself in a frenzied cadence. He shuttered his optics and threw back his head, his vocalizer emitting a needy whine.

Megatron thought, for a moment, of chiding him for daring to touch himself without permission. But somehow, here and now, with their sparks laid bare and everything confessed, he couldn't bring himself to bother.

Instead he moved again, pulling back only for the pleasure of diving in, and his sensornet sang, every part of him alive. Once, twice, three times, and reward or no reward, he couldn't hold back. He saw Starscream's hand twitch against that ridiculous, beautiful, colorful spike and he shuddered, watching Starscream's transfluid spurt over his cockpit glass.

A moment later, his own fluid burst free, flooding Starscream's valve.

_Mine,_ he thought again, still feeling Starscream's legs locked tight around him.

_And you finally have the sense to admit it._


End file.
